


Too Late

by Sampika



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Afghanistan, Gen, Iron Man 1, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampika/pseuds/Sampika
Summary: It was getting harder to remember why he kept walking, why he marched on, why he even let himself hope.So he stopped.





	Too Late

He didn’t know how long it had been. 

All he knew was heat, sun beating down on his back, dry air in his lungs. The desert was endless - sand dunes stretched on and on and on, a sea of bright granules, and he was stranded. Tony walked, setting one foot in front of the other even when the pain in his chest begged him to stop, even when the exhaustion pulling at his bones urged him to fall into the sandy ocean, even when his mind told him over and over again that _this was it._ That there was no rescue, that he was alone.

But Tony kept walking.

His steps were unsteady, just barely keeping him upright as he fought to stay on his feet. Never once did he falter, even when the blurring, hot air turned to a mirage of oasis, even when his throat was so parched that only granules of sand rubbed in his throat when he swallowed. The wind, which might have sounded like relief, only brought a wave of even warmer air - the kind one would feel when they opened an oven. Because that was what the desert would be for Tony. An oven. It would cook him alive, boil the blood in his body and leave him for the buzzards to find.

Minutes had passed into hours, somehow. It couldn’t have been so long since he escaped the Ten Rings, yet it felt like an eternity had passed him by since the fire ate away his enemies. He wondered if the fire would eat him, too. Maybe it already had.

He wasn’t even sweating anymore. Somewhere in the back of him mind, Tony knew that was a terrible, terrible sign, but he was just glad to be rid of one discomfort in this hellish ocean of fire and exhaustion.

The metal in his chest burned.

It absorbed the sun’s heat, conducting it directly into his skin, and it became hard to tell if the scar tissue had always been that red, or if blisters were starting to form. He favored the latter.

He wondered if they were looking for him. Rhodey, Pepper, JARVIS. Were they looking for him in this hellscape? Had they given up on him? How long had it even been - a week, two? In that cave, he hadn’t seen the sun. The only indication of passing time were the meals they fed him, but it had been impossible to know just how long they’d kept him captive. Back in the city, they say that a missing person’s chances of being found alive dwindle to nearly nothing after the first twenty four hours. Now, Tony was sure he’d been gone for more than one day - and yes, these were different circumstances, and he certainly wasn’t in the city - but maybe they’d stopped looking. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Even if they hadn’t quit, hadn’t _given up_ , how would they even have a chance at finding him? The sands went on for miles, and Tony was nothing more than a dark, bloody, weary speck in a vast stretch of burning dunes. He wondered if they would even see him.

Each footfall felt more like a futile effort, more like he would never make it home. Yinsen’s dying words weighed his heart down like stones, but he wouldn’t give up on him. He couldn’t let Yinsen’s death be in vain. But the heat was suffocating, drawing energy from his body like a sponge draws water. His throat was sore and raw, his vision blurring with every hot breath of air in his already calescent lungs. 

It was getting harder to remember why he kept walking, kept inching his way towards what he hoped would be relief. Freedom. Life. 

The last ounce of rationality in his brain told him that it was pointless. The last ounce of energy, the last ounce of his willpower told him to stop. He needed to stop.

When he put his foot back in the sand, he did not keep marching on. Knees buckled, and suddenly, he was lying on the sand, eyes to the sky. He never felt his body hit the ground - he was to exhausted to register the pain.

The sun’s light above him was so bright… it was impossible to tell anymore whether his vision was clear or blurry. Cloudless, blue sky became brighter, brighter, a white light too pure to be the sun. It offered respite from the suffering.

So he reached for it.

And if they ever did manage to uncover his body from the sands, it was already too late.

**Author's Note:**

> So my friend PandoraButler and I were talking about how it would have been completely and utterly heartbreaking if Rhodey had found Tony just a little bit too late, that he would have been SO CLOSE to rescue, but he just couldn't hold on long enough, and they'd missed him by mere minutes. So I had a little extra time tonight, and well, yeah. I've said it once and I'll say it again, I am an angst addict. I can't not write it. Sorry not sorry. >.>


End file.
